He seized the surprised Elizabeth Ann and lifted her into the bus.
“I just want to tell you,” he said quietly, “that the next time anyone stages a performance like that this morning, I shall report him or her to the principal. And I’ll leave him behind, too—you’re all old enough to behave yourselves and if you’re not willing to make the bus and get to school on time, why that’s your affair, not mine.”
He swung the heavy iron lever that opened the door and the children began to file out quietly. Elizabeth Ann stayed in her seat until the last one was out and then she came up to Dave.
“I had to wait for Catherine,” she said earnestly. “She’s my friend.”
“Well—all right,” returned Dave. “I suppose you thought you had to wait for her; but the trouble with Catherine Gould is that too many people wait for her—give in to her, I mean. She’d be late for school every morning, and not care if the whole school would be late, too.”
Elizabeth Ann sincerely hoped that Catherine would try harder to get to school on time. Because she was so often later going home afternoons—on account of that homework that she just wouldn’t do—and if she had to walk to school mornings, dear me, she would be in a sad way.
Doris told Uncle Hiram about the bus incident, and Elizabeth Ann was sorry she had not asked her to keep still about it. Uncle Hiram declared that Elizabeth Ann and Doris should not wait past the usual time another morning for Catherine.
“She must get here in time to walk with you to the bus, or you must start without her,” said Uncle Hiram firmly. “Catherine is entirely too selfish and she gets more spoiled every week.”
And the very next morning Catherine missed the bus again—Elizabeth Ann and Doris didn’t even see her, but she wasn’t at the cross-roads with them and Roger Calendar and the others when Dave drove up. He honked his horn as usual, but no Catherine appeared, so he drove on to school.